


missions

by liionne



Series: horrifying house guests [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (a little bit), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missions, actual babysitter natasha romanov, avengering, worried Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve goes out on a solo mission, and Bucky is left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	missions

**Author's Note:**

> Big big thanks to my wonderful new beta monkeyduels, who has been a mahoosive help with grammar and helping me fix the ending, and a whole bunch of other stuff. I doubt this fic would be as good without the help!
> 
> I also didn't think I would ever revisit this series, but I have. There may well be more to come!

Occasionally, a little skirmish will come up that only requires the attention of one Avenger. One Avenger, maybe a few agents, and they can have the whole case under control and sorted out in a day or so, if not even faster. Steve says he likes those kinds of solo missions; it’s like what he used to do back in the forties, and it’s easy, light work, that generally doesn’t threaten too many people. So yeah, Steve likes them.

Bucky does not like them.

The reason being that they’re not usually featured on the national news, so he has no idea what’s going on until Steve calls, and because he’s _alone_. He’s alone, out there, in the ass end of nowhere. He could be dead, and how would Bucky know? He could be hurt, he could be injured, there’s no one there to protect him—

Bucky hates those missions.

But when a situation in Alaska calls, Steve is the only one available to take it. Stark is pulling some philanthropic stunt in the West Indies, Banner is off working on some government thing, Clint and Thor are at home, and Natasha is off doing super-secret Natasha stuff. Thus, when the alarm sounds, it’s just Steve who can answer the call.

Bucky stands in the doorway and watches Steve suit up, arms folded over his chest. He’s not impressed. Why should he be? His boyfriend is about to go risking his life over a minor skirmish, and Bucky can’t be there to protect him. Maybe if he could, he wouldn’t be feeling so bad about this.

“Bucky.”

Steve’s voice pulls him from his reverie.

“Bucky, it’s gonna be fine.”

Steve clicks his shield into place on his back, and crosses the room to stand in front of him, their chests almost touching. Steve places gloved hands on his hips, and Bucky glares at him, resolves not to just give in and wrap his arms around him, and for a moment, it works.

“You have Freedom, Leto, and the rest of the Avengers to keep you company.” Steve says. Bucky grimaces at the mention of the cat. “And this is just a routine op. I’m just going in, freeing the prisoners, taking out the kidnappers, and coming home. I’ll be a couple of hours, at most.”

His voice is so soft and so alluring, that Bucky does just what he had resolved not to do. He wraps his arms sulkily around Steve’s neck, and shifts so that he can hug him. He feels bulky, Kevlar-clad arms slide around his waist, and he sighs into Steve’s neck.

“Jus’ don’t like not being there to protect you.” He mutters, almost hoping that Steve won’t hear him.

“I know.” Steve murmurs. “I know. But I’ll be fine, it’s not going to be too bad. Bucky—I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Bucky leans up for a kiss, and Steve quite happily gives it to him, their lips meeting gently.

“I love you.” Steve says, smiling down at him. He has to go, and Bucky is holding him back, but he’s selfish. And mean. And really, really scared.

“I love you too.” He murmurs, and he wrenches himself away. “Go on, go. I’ll wait up for you.”

Steve doesn’t even argue, he just looks at him for a second, and then goes, putting in his ear piece on his way out.

~*~

Steve isn’t home that day.

He’s not home for another three days.

Three days and Bucky has barely slept because he’s been chewing a hole in his lip on the couch, flicking through news channels in case one of them has anything about it on there – none of them do. Why would they? It’s just a regional thing. Bucky can’t get the Alaskan Local News.

Steve had called a few hours after he’d l­eft, and said that it might take a little longer than they were expecting, and that he loved Bucky, and he’d see him soon. Bucky hadn’t slept that night, because Steve hadn’t said how much later he would be, and Bucky wasn’t one to take chances.

It’s now Day 3, and Natasha Romanov is staring him down over a cup of tea.

“Barnes, sleep. If there’s any news, I’ll wake you up.”

It’s a tempting offer. Bucky is very tired.

“I won’t move from this spot. I’ll keep the phone in my hand. If he calls, I’ll wake you up, and put him straight on to you.”

Again, very tempting. He could get in a quick nap.

But, no.

“I have to wait up. I said I would.”

Natasha gives a soft sigh. “Running yourself into the ground won’t do him any good. I don’t know when he’s coming back, James. I don’t have any idea. But I know that when he does, he’s going to need you to be strong, and that’s not what you’re doing right now.” She stands, graceful, and moves to the front door of their floor in Stark Tower. Bucky really does need to at least go up to the penthouse, to the common area rec room or whatever, but he’s also contemplating worrying himself to death until Steve comes home.

“Any news, and I’ll call.” She says, before she finally leaves the room.

The puppy nudges at Bucky’s knee, so he tugs him into his lap. He’d been getting Sam to walk him for the past few days – he just can’t bear to leave the apartment, but he also won’t let him suffer. From the other end of the couch, Freedom meows at him.

“I don’t know when he’s coming back, cat.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know.”

~*~

Bucky does fall asleep, eventually, with animals littered on top of him and a blanket around his knees, put there long before, but fallen down during the night.

Apparently, Bucky used to be a heavy sleeper. Steve says that in the older days, he could sleep straight through a bomb going off under their bed, but now? Now he wakes at the drop of a hat, at a pin drop. One creak of a floorboard in the next room, and he’s up and alert. So when he hears footsteps just outside the door, he’s up like a shot, looking at it, fingers twitching towards the gun in the coffee table drawer.

But then the door opens and closes, so softly and so quietly, and in walks Steve. Bucky feels his heart leap into his throat – it’s been five days, and Bucky hasn’t heard from him since that first day. He’s so happy to see him.

“Buck?”

Steve’s voice is gruff, from shouting or disuse or something, and so Bucky stands, scrambles over the back of the couch to step closer to him. At least then he won’t have to speak so loudly.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks. “You look tired—“

“I’m so glad you’re alive.” Bucky says, head shaking a little as he pushes his face into Steve’s chest. “I’m so glad, I didn’t, I couldn’t—“

“Hey, hey,” Steve soothes, arms curling around him as he kisses Bucky, his forehead and cheeks and nose, trying to soothe him. “I’m sorry. I should’ve gotten in touch, I know, I’m sorry.”

“’s not your fault.” Bucky hiccups. He thinks he might be crying. “’s just me. I was just worried.”

“I’d be worried too, if it was you out there.” Steve sighs. He pulls back, and frames Bucky’s face with his hands. “I’ve missed you so much. Felt more like five years than five days.”

Bucky nods up at him, and then burrows close again. “Missed you too, punk.”

“Jerk.” Steve echoes. “Did you sleep?”

“No.” Bucky says. “Not really.”

He still feels dog-tired, holding back a yawn. Steve smiles softly, and takes his hand in his own.

“C’mon, then. Let’s go to bed, soldier.”

“Wait—“Bucky says. He leans back, and looks at Steve, eyes narrowing. “You’re not hurt?”

“Already healed.” He says. “I’m fine, believe me. Come on.”

“I don’t believe you.” He says, deadpan. He folds his arms over his chest, narrows his eyes, and watches as Steve sags a little. He thought he was gonna get out of this one – he’s so wrong. “Kitchen, c’mon. I’ll patch you up.”

They both know that by morning, the bruises and lacerations will have healed, and the bandages and the salves will be pointless, but they make Bucky feel better. This is a routine they’ve had since the 1930s – Steve sits at the kitchen table, slumped over, whilst Bucky flits around the place, grabbing a first aid kit, some warm water. He washes the dirt from Steve’s face with cotton wool and the warm, soapy water, and rubs some antiseptic cream into each one. Though he’s tired, the movements are methodical, ones he already knows. He puts little butterfly bandages over the smaller cuts, and leaves the ones that are already halfway healed.

“What happened?”

Steve looks up, meets his gaze. He looks down again, and lets Bucky work.

“Ten hostages in an underground bunker. We thought we’d be able to go straight in and get ‘em, but they kidnappers knew we were coming, started shooting before we’d even touched the ground. We needed a few days to strategize.”

He hangs his head a little, face clean and covered in tiny bandages as it looks towards the floor. Bucky, carefully, holds that face in both hands, and tilts it up towards him.

“Did you get them all?”

“Lost one.” Steve answers.

“Lost one.” Bucky echoes. He leans down, and kisses Steve’s forehead. “But you got the rest of them; that’s what counts.”

He knows Steve hates losing civilians, victims. Can see it in the way his shoulders slump, and his head hangs, as though it carries the greatest burden. But Bucky is not one to force subjects – he has spent a lot of time not talking about things he should talk about, and Steve never once forced him to. Steve will talk when he’s ready.

“Let’s go to bed.” Bucky says, taking his hands.

Steve gives a solemn nod. He looks even more exhausted than Bucky does, and with good reason. What they both need now is a little rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts are always welcome, you can find me over at [my tumblr](http://achaiion.tumblr.com)


End file.
